verucasalt123 | snapshots ficlet - Goodbye, Farewell (4/30)

Title: Goodbye, Farewell
Author: verucasalt123
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, John Winchester
Claim: Theme 15 – The Story Begins
Theme: http://verucasalt123.livejournal.com/230174.html
Prompt(s): #19
Rating: R for language
Disclaimer: I own no Winchesters, Singers, Murphys or any other member of the Supernatural cast.
Summary: And it all comes down to this.

You’re dead to me was the ugly, twisted thought in John’s mind when Sam had finally had enough of their latest argument and thrust a piece of paper into his hands.

Stanford. College. He was leaving. Abandoning his family, giving up on the hunt, disrespecting his mother who had fucking died for him. Died, goddamnit, died and left John with two little boys and no fucking clue what to do with the rest of his life. Until he found out. Learned the truth about the demon, and dedicated his life to finding it, killing it, getting revenge for the loss of his love. Spent all these years trying to keep his sons safe, and then, when they were old enough (in his opinion), teaching Dean how to keep Sammy safe, both of them to keep themselves safe. He’d given up everything, anything he could have had so he could learn to rid the world of supernatural forces like those that had killed their mother, looking for that one specific one who had actually done it.

Should have seen it coming. Past couple of years, Sam was never fucking happy, no matter what. John tried, he did, he thought he did, anyway…but nothing was ever good enough for Sam. Well, Dean – for a while Dean was good enough, Dean could always find a way to make Sam smile. Lately, though, not even his big brother was able to coax Sam out of his shell. The only time he spoke, his words were spat out like curses. Complaints, fights, sarcasm.

He thought he was better than they were. Better than John, better than Dean. Hunting wasn’t a good enough life for Sam. He had to have more – more, more, Sam never tired of reaching for more. John had wondered, for a while, why Sam was so intent on excelling at school when he wasn’t going to use that knowledge in his real life, his adult life, hunting with his brother and his father. It all fell into place now. Sam hadn’t intended for that to be his life for a long, long time. He wondered how long it had taken, how much sneaking around he’d had to have done to keep this a secret.

Sam was still cursing, throwing things, screaming. John saw Dean, standing back with a shocked and hurt look on his face – Dean hadn’t known, either, then. Sam had kept it from both of them. Dean never wanted to get in the middle, though, not anymore. When Sam had started pushing so hard against John, it was Dean who always stood between them, trying to calm them both down, talk some sense into them, restore a little bit of camaraderie between the three of them. Not anymore, though. Dean had been staying out of Sam and John’s fights for a good while now. On the rare occasion when he had something to add, it was usually on his father’s side, which only pissed Sam off more.

“There’s nothing you can do! What the hell is wrong with you? Most parents would be thrilled that their kid got a free ride to a good college! All you can do is tell me you’re disappointed? Disappointed at my college scholarship that I worked so fucking hard for?” And there it was, that look Sam hadn’t let John see for so long…he was hurt. Sad.

Just as disappointed in John as John was in him. For a second, just a second, he thought it was going to get him, like it used to, make him want to put his arms around Sam and try to find a way to make him feel better.

No. Not this time.

“You walk out that door, don’t you ever come back!” John heard the words coming out of his mouth before he even registered their presence in his mind.

Sam turned around and went into his room, probably to pack up his shit.

Dean looked at him like he’d just stomped on a pile of baby kittens.

John headed to the kitchen to hide in a bottle. He barely heard the door when it opened, then slammed shut, leaving an empty echo behind.